


Once Upon in Neverland

by AliceMalefoy



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 05:09:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7701985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceMalefoy/pseuds/AliceMalefoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you came on Neverland to save Henry from Peter Pan, you didn't expect to find your home there. Unsuspected memories come back and slowly your old self returns, wiping away any trace of who you were for the last hundred years you spent stuck in Storybrooke because of the dark curse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Once Upon in Neverland

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU, very largely inspired from the events of OUAT. It doesn't take in account Peter Pan's back story as Rumple's father (and this Henry's grandfather) neither his death (I live in denial, sue me). It's, of course, completely made up, I didn't take this idea from any myth (at least, not purposely??). This is pretty far from everything else I've written, I hope you'll enjoy anyway!  
> Info: Italics is for the past!

Art thou pale for weariness  
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,  
Wandering companionless  
Among the stars that have a different birth,  
And ever-changing like a joyless eye  
That finds no object worth its constancy?1

The shores of Neverland had something unique. Everything about this place was unreal; from the ever so clear sky to the soft and warm sand of the beach. Steady waves of azure water crashed against the rocks of the mermaid lagoon, a few miles away from were you sat.  
You sat in the sand three hours ago and you hadn't moved a muscle since then, apart from occasionally shifting positions when your limbs grew numb. The zephyr blew lightly through your hair, but you had stopped trying to fix it two hours ago and now let it fly around. The weather was so nice, and the nature so calm... Pan must be in an particularly good mood. You leaned back and dug yours fingers in the sand, searching for a few minutes before finding a sea shell.  
Whenever you came here, you always wished the time would stop so you could enjoy the view forever, before remembering how silly it was. It made you laugh, and just like every time you laughed, it felt like the whole island silenced so the only sound left was the crystalline laughter falling from your lips.  
It's been four months since Henry's family came to save him, and when you accompanied them on Neverland, you thought it was the first time you came here. To say that it was a surprise to have Peter Pan talk to you like you were an old friend of him was an understatement. At first, your friends turned their back on you, they pushed you away, thinking they had been tricked. Back in Storybrooke, when they had all lost their memories, you were known under the name of (Y/N).  
A name so unlike you, you would later understand. In the dim light of the sunset, your hair beheld a fiery glow and with the wind, it looked like a ring of fire surrounded you. (Y/N). A name that screamed soft, innocent and pure. When you saw Pan, and he realized that you couldn't remember him, he looked utterly dismayed, but then he asked what your name was and when he heard it, he laughed. He called it ironic, told you your old name suited you better.  
You demanded he told you what it was many times, but he refused. Pan wanted you to remember your old self – to remember him. You asked him why you were still here, why he hadn't allowed you to leave on the Jollyroger with the others, but this question, like all the others, was ignored and you started to get tired of being treated like a child – like a clueless little girl who had to learn by herself and was denied any kind of explanation. That's why you came to the beach: to be alone, to think, to remember. It was a tiring process.  
“I told you not to go near the mermaids,” Peter's stark voice said behind you. Anger shone through his tone and you could tell he was standing straight, fists clenched and teeth gritting. A sigh fell from your lips; you knew your moment of privacy was over.  
“And I asked you why but you said I should know better than anyone,” you replied.  
“And since you cannot, you deemed it was a good idea to come here and find out by yourself?” He snarled. “Rich idea.”  
Rich, indeed. You stood up in a sandstorm, spinning around. Your naked feet were dirty with the wet ground of Neverland, dried by the sand. you were only covered with a white sheet wrapped around yourself like a strapless dress. It was stained too, and it smelt like the sea after the many swims you took.  
“You're different,” Peter frowned, studying you from head to toe. “Something's-” he trailed, bringing his hand up to your cheek, but barely brushing it with the tip of his fingers. “-changed,” he finished, dropping his hand.  
A quick spark in your eyes made him flinch and step back.  
“Or has it?” He wondered out loud, a shocked yet satisfied smirk painting over his face.  
“I wouldn't know,” (Y/N) barked back. Since you set foot on the island, you were overwhelmed with a strong sense of déjà-vu, and it felt like your old identity was slowly gaining control over the new one. Which one you liked best, that was still a question to debate.  
“Mmhum,” Peter hummed in response, obviously not convinced.  
“If you don't want me near the Lagoon, and since you're... the King of Neverland, why don't you do something? You could forbid me, right?” you asked, stepping closer to him.  
You almost saw Peter mentally connecting the dots, although you weren't truly surprised – you knew he could outsmart you – but it was still sufficiently funny to watch him struggle for once that he wasn't the one with all the cards in his hands.  
“You are recovering your memories,” he stated.  
“Slowly, but certainly,” you nodded. Very slowly, but he didn't need that piece of information. “But there's something else I'm recovering,” you shot him a playful smile and lifted your hand up in the air, making a swift motion with your thin wrist. Vines and branches suddenly flew towards Peter, and he was too taken aback by this sudden reversal of situations to duck and move out of their grasp. Before he knew it, he was pinned against a tree trunk, with natural ropes around his neck, practically chocking him, making him scratch and struggle to get rid of them, but when he saw that it was to no avail, he stopped and relaxed, knowing that you weren't going to kill him. He seemed profoundly disturbed by the realization that he wasn't in control of Neverland's greenery anymore. The island was so deeply connected to him that it was nearly impossible, and yet...  
You walked forward, your feet leaving the sand for the ground. When you reached Pan, you put your hands either side of his head and leaned in so close that your cheeks brushed.  
“My powers,” you whispered seductively in his ear, giving a small bite to his lob.  
You stepped back to look at him and your confusion was difficult to hide when you saw that the look of betrayal in Pan's eyes was nothing compared to the pride. 

*

It all started with a star. It wasn't the biggest, nor the brightest, but it sparked with determination, and therefore, you followed it. The strangest feature was that it had a green glow to it. It was a long journey, you followed it all night long every night for the longest time – through time and space, you floated, as if sliding on an ice surface, your feet not once touching the ground.  
It felt like forever had passed when you finally reached the star, but you did, and with the tip of your finger, you touched it. A shower of green sparks erupted from the spot you touched and it flew around you like hummingbirds, before diving down towards the earth.  
There was water, water everywhere. Before losing track of the green sparks, you followed them, and when they touched the surface of the ocean, a bright light momentarily blinded you. When you opened her eyes again, there was a luxurious island before her eyes. The foreign feeling of her feet in the lukewarm water of the island's shore made her smile.  
Smiling. What a strange feeling. Bringing her hands up to her face, you touched her lips, trying to figure out why it felt so right to do this with her face. Everything, absolutely everything here felt perfect and so you decided to sit down and never get up. And that's what you did. You sat down on the sand of this island that you made appear out of stardust, and you stayed there watching the horizon, humming softly to yourself an old song you didn't know where you heard but always knew.  
The bright orb in the sky that warmed your skin rose and set a thousand times and even after you decided it was to be called the Sun, it rose and set another thousand time all the while you sat there, humming an unearthly lullaby to the world around you, never once growing tired of admiring the beauty of it.  
One day you decided that it was too marvelous of a place to ever lose but a leaf from its trees, and that it shall always remain luxurious and lively like it was now. You forbid the time to pass. Never again did you see the nature fade to brown and the plants perish, nor did you see the miraculous rebirth of the island in Spring.  
“Never!” You screamed to the sky. You never wanted to see death on this little slice of earth you had claimed as your own. “Neverland.”  
But a new feeling was staining this picture and you couldn't quite name it until one day, something happened: you weren't the only one on the island anymore. It was like every fiber of your being tingled and was set ablaze. Neverland was telling you that you weren't alone anymore.

*

“You had no right to claim my land!” You shouted, tightening the vine around Peter's neck, watching his signature smug smirk appear on his face. This infuriated you beyond words. How dared he?!  
“I knew you'd remember! Your spirit couldn't be crushed by some dark curse, hexed by a poor excuse of a witch!” He rejoiced although you were clearly threatening his life.  
Throwing your head back, you had a fit of laughter, though it was a bitter one. “Oh please Peter, tell me you planned a little farther ahead than that, I'd be very disappointed in you if you thought bringing me here would do the trick.”  
Oh, how the tables have turned, you thought. Once upon a time, you were the one bringing him here, and you still couldn't remember why, you just knew it was you. The Sun was long gone now that both of the people claiming control over Neverland were in a gloomier mood.  
“(Y/N),” Peter whispered your name. You shook your head. It sounded dreadful! You couldn't put your finger on what was wrong, but something was definitely off about this replacement name. “You seek answers? Let me bring them to you.” The last thing you saw was the boyish grin on his face before he disappeared and then you felt his hands on your waist, massaging you through the piece of clothing you wore. “Do you remember this?” He hushed in your ear, letting his arms travel up and down your sides. You tensed up and closed your eyes, not allowing yourself to shiver in response of his caresses. “I do. I remember you liked it, a lot.”  
“I like many things, however I can assure you, you are not among them,” you snapped at him, even though you didn't make a move to free yourself from his embrace.  
“Is that so?” He snickered behind you, pressing his chest against your back to distract you further. “That's what I thought.”  
“You said you would provide me answers,” you reminded him. “Speak up or leave me alone.”  
His body detached from yours, and you almost covered your mouth with your hand to prevent the sigh from escaping your lips. The cold air that now hit your back was a great contrast to the familiar warmness of his body against yours. Pushing that fact to the back of your mind, you focused on the current situation.  
“You frustrate me to no end,” he commented, his hand rubbing his jaw as he walked a couple steps back, the waves licking his boots.  
“Are you implying that you and I were in a relationship?” You finally asked, unable to keep the question for yourself any longer.  
“A relationship,” he laughed mockingly. He said the word like he had never used it before. “That's not the word I would use. Star-crossed lovers maybe? Soul-mates?” Once again, he disappeared and when you turned your head to the right, his face was inches away from yours. “Perhaps it was even True Love?”  
“You are mocking me,” you spat, glaring daggers to the mischievous boy who was toying with you. “I said I wanted answers! If you have nothing to give me in exchange of my time then don't waste any more of it and leave!” You dismissed him with a wave of your hand.  
“And let you contemplate the sea like you always do? You do remember doing that, don't you?” Peter asked.  
“I do,” you obliged and answered him. “It was far more beautiful the first time I sat here,” you walked until you reached the exact spot where you sat down the very first time you came on the island. “You tarnished my paradise. Claiming my kingdom wasn't enough, you wouldn't be satisfied until there was nothing left but violence and obscurity. You even allow the Shadow to lurk in the dark places of the island!”  
Resent veiled his green eyes and a twisted expression replaced the confident smirk he always used to destabilize his interlocutor. His hand grabbed your wrist and he started leading you towards the lagoon, his grip on you too strong to make him let go. “You want to know why I told you not to approach the mermaids?!” He barked, anger washing over his face, making him look older than he was – at least, older than his body was. “Time to get your answers!”  
And with one forceful pull at your arm, he threw you down the rock atop which you both stood, letting you sink in the deep blue mermaid filled lagoon. Before he could even catch his breath, he saw the shimmering tails of the ghastly creatures he had awaken, as your body sank deeper, and the bubbles on the surface disappeared.

*

You remember running – as fast as your feet allowed you to. It was the first time you did this, since you had all the time in the world, but the feeling was strangely freeing. A loud thump in your chest was deafening you and for a second you wondered if you should worry but to be completely honest, you didn't have a worry in the world. Your feet knew the way better than you and they jumped over the logs and avoided the holes for you, and within minutes, you had reached the place.  
How you knew you had reached your destination? You had no idea. It's like you could hear the heart of Neverland beating under your feet, as if the ground on which you stood was its chest. The sight before your eyes was one of dreams. The colors were so vivid your eyes had to adjust, but you couldn't bring yourself to close them. The water was bluer than the sky above, and the sound of the waterfall was incredibly soothing. But the object of your attention was under the water. It moved.  
In an instant, you flew over to the rock towering over the limpid water and laid down to have a closer look. Something swam quickly right below the surface, too fast to let you see. The water was troubled for a moment before stilling again, allowing you to catch a glimpse of your own reflection. Marvel and curiosity overwhelmed you as your heard the distinctive sound of a water splash. The urge to join the foreign creatures in the water was strong, but something told you not to do it.  
Mesmerizing laughter filled your ears yet when you looked up there was no one. Your patience was wearing thin and before you could suppress the reflex, you outstretched your hand to touch the water. A flash of anger washed over you when you realized that your arm wasn't long enough. Your fingers were inches away from the surface but not quite touching it.  
“No!” You shouted, furious against yourself for not being capable to do this. Focusing on your body, you closed your eyes, searching deep inside to find the energy to grow, to evolve. You felt your body develop, your childish like form turn into a more feminine version of yourself and your limbs grow.  
Suddenly your fingers were long enough to touch the water and even go knuckles deep. A genuine smile stretched your lips and just when you started laughing, you felt a hand grab your wrist. The smile disappeared just as quick as it arrived and your scream was muffled by the water when the hand around your forearm pulled you under the surface. And then the nightmare begun.  
Experiencing drowning was one of the most dreadful things you'd live in your very, very long life. They were all around you – the half female half fish creatures with sharp nails and crazed eyes – they surrounded you to prevent you from swimming away, though you wouldn't stand a chance against them. The grip on your wrist tightened abruptly, causing you to let out a scream, muted by the water and when you realized you released all your oxygen, you wanted to cry.  
Crying underwater was just about the most pointless thing to do, but you deemed it was a human thing to do.  
Where you human? Probably not, but still, sometimes it felt like you were. Could you even die? That was a question you didn't want to answer just yet.  
A scratch on your cheek sent a flash of pain through your body, and another one along your thigh and your leg. Your arms flapped around, desperately trying to find hold on something or even fight back and hit one of the creatures – the mermaids. Horror paralyzed you when you saw the waters around you darken, and realized that your wounds were bleeding a black substance.  
In that moment, everything clicked and you came back to your senses. A new level of fury and resent filled you up, pulsing through your veins making your heart beat faster. The atmosphere grew colder and darker. You couldn't see it but you knew for a fact that the sun set and the night replaced the bright daylight. When your gaze locked with the eyes of one of the murderous creatures, it flinched and hesitated a second, and that second was enough to give you confidence.  
“It's over,” you mouthed.  
Releasing the accumulated energy you stocked in your core, you sent a wave of magic through the water, causing the fish-women to be pulled back, away from you. This was your cue. Before they came back to their senses the swam towards you again, you took your leave and crawled out of the water, walking up the beach and as far away from the ocean as your feet could carry you. You couldn't remember how long you walked or how deep into the forest you went, but at some point, you just fell down, your knees hitting hard the cold ground and your hands quickly grabbing the nearest trunk to steady yourself.  
Tears were streaming down your pale cheeks and your silvery hair glowed in the stark darkness of the night. Black blood was still dripping from your flesh wounds, staining the ground and poisoning the soil. With your back against the tree you let yourself sink down to the ground and when you looked back from where you came, blinking the tears away, you saw what you had done.  
In your path grew a new sort of plant that wasn't there before. As your eyes drifted to the ground, watching the small pool of fresh blood accumulate at your feet, you witnessed it transform, shaping itself in the form of a black, thorny plant. With one last fit of crying, you ripped it out of the ground, your grip so tight that the thorns dug into your palm and suddenly, everything around you transformed into a shapeless phantasmagoria.  
Right before losing all touch with reality, you felt sweat trickle down your forehead, and you named this dreadful poison Dreamshade.

*

“Was it really necessary?” You yelled at Peter, stomping towards him, your hair and dress dripping wet. It took you time to get rid of these god awful creatures in the Lagoon, but you weren't as clueless as the first time you fell into the grasp of their claws.  
He was sitting on a log, playing of his piper for his Lost Boys. They were dancing and running in circles around him, in this sort of trance the music put them in. You never heard Peter Pan's music, and sometimes, it saddened you.  
“It was entertaining at least,” he sent a boyish grin your way, enchanting his piper so it played alone. He stood up to come to you and placed a hand in the small of your back to gently lead you away. “(Y/N),” he started when you were out of ear-shot of the boys. “You know I wouldn't have done it if I thought it was dangerous for you.”  
“Do I?” You replied. “I'm not so sure. You seem to think that I should trust you, but you do everything in your power to make me doubt you. Throwing me to the mermaids was a bold move.”  
“Was it fruitful?” He asked, hoping it worked. Hurting you was the last thing he wanted, but there was no other way to make you remember. How would you believe him?  
“What does it change?” You snapped at him. Three months and still no answers. Three months of endless frustration and conflicted feelings. “You know what infuriates me the most Peter?”  
The boy stopped in his track to smile at the use of his name. You never used his name anymore – he missed it. You failed to notice though, you were too caught up in your anger.  
“I don't know how to feel! Everything feels familiar and distant at the same time! I go and visit a place I've never been before and I have this sense of déjà-vu that never leave me! I see you and I immediately want to run in your arms before remembering that I hate you!” You rambled, feeling a weight on your chest as if your heart was being squeezed in somebody's palm. “I can't cope with this feeling! Make it stop!” You pleaded. It was a desperate call, something you wouldn't usually do but it was unbearable. With your memories coming back to you in waves, it was hard to put the pieces together. You recovered your powers slowly, you felt the spark of magic running through your body, setting your nerves afire, but you could hardly control them as for now. The little trick you did earlier to tie Peter against a tree was nothing compared what you knew you were capable of.  
“Everything will make sense (Y/N), I promise,” Peter said, his hand massaging your neck, bringing you a bit of comfort.  
“Your promise is void, Peter. I don't know you,” you trailed sadly. But unaware of your own action, you brought your hand up to place your hand over his, on your shoulder. His fingers intertwined with yours, gently stroking your knuckles. Despite the growing of your body that fateful day at the mermaid lagoon, you never reached adulthood. You chose to remain between the state of childhood and maturity. Peter was slightly taller than you, and it troubled you that you found that attractive.  
Carefully, Peter leaned in and placed a kiss on the back of your hand. You withdrew it quickly. “Peter...” you sighed. “Tell me who I am. I see things, I remember things, but they seem... impossible.”  
“But you already know,” he assured you, combing your wet hair with his fingers. “And you wouldn't believe me. You said it yourself, you don't trust me,” he reminded you, letting his hand fall down to his side.  
“Let me be judge of that,” you argued. “Anything. Tell me anything. Prove me I can trust you. Win my trust,” you demanded, turning around to look at him, diving your eyes into his own, green ones. You took his hand in yours, not wanting to feel this distance between you, although you knew you should consider him your enemy.  
You saw hesitation flicker through his eyes, but then he smiled – not one of his treacherous smirks or boyish grins meant to charm you – but a real honest smile.  
“The first time we met-” Peter begun, not knowing how to start. “I was five years old. My parents had been killed by brigands the week before and I would have done anything to find my way out of the orphanage my brother and I'd been placed into.” He shot you a glare meaning 'don't you dare say you're sorry for me', and you shook your head, showing him that it wasn't your intention. “I saw Neverland in my dreams, and you were there. Every night for years, you let me walk with you and you played with me and told me stories.”  
“What stories?” You asked. He chuckled, because of course, it was the one thing you wanted to know.  
“How the Moon was jealous of the Sun leading the sky, so she decided to run away,” he grinned, enjoying seeing you smile like that. “You were a really good story-teller.”  
“I wish I could remember this story,” you said, nostalgically, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. You froze when you saw something new in your hair. It was silver. The color of your hair was changing.  
“It's going back to its original color,” he explained, answering your silent question and taking the strand in his hand. “And I promise to tell you the whole story if you can't remember it.”  
You looked at him, startled and pleased at the same time, because for some reason when he talked to you, he didn't use the same patronizing tone than with the boys, and he didn't use his magic on you, even to throw you into the Lagoon. Peter was himself with you.  
“I believe you,” you eventually said.

*

“Peter!” You whispered. “Peter, wake up!” You reached out for him, gently shaking the small boy curled up into a ball. His dirty blond hair stuck out in many different directions, he looked as if you just awoke him from a very deep slumber. His small form crawled out of his thin worn out blanket, and the young boy rubbed tiredness away from his eyes before opening them. They lit up at the sight of you.  
“You came back!” He cheered hopping on his straw mattress. You hushed him and gestured him to be silent so the other boys sharing his dorms wouldn’t wake up. He stilled and pouted slightly but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.  
“Of course I came back,” you said, offering him your hand. “I promised, didn't I?” You asked him and he nodded energetically. The boy slipped his small hand in yours, holding it for his dear life when you started floating away with Peter following suit. You still remembered the first time he saw you flying, his eyes filled with wonder and curiosity. “Ready?” You asked, earning another eager nod and a beautiful ear-to-ear smile. Caressing his full cheeks, you returned the smile, then gestured him to follow you in silence. The journey to Neverland was always his favorite part – Peter loved to fly, he had asked you several times to let go of his hand so he could try alone, but you couldn't bring yourself to risk having him fall.   
Both of you flew out of the window, not uttering a word. The night was particularly cold, and even wrapped in his blanket, Peter was cold, so you didn't say anything when he found shelter in yours arms while you made both of you fly over to Neverland.   
You lived lonely days on the island, and this piercing solitude was only strengthened since the mermaids attack you suffered. Other creatures slowly made the island their home, but still, you were one of a kind, and no other living thing dared to approach you. You resorted to this to find company. Peter and other children you visited in their dreams were your solace. They were innocent and kind and they were eager to visit your island. You loved every single one of them, but it only lasted so long. When the night changed into daylight, you brought them back home.   
“Peter, look!” You pointed to the horizon, seeing Neverland in the far distance.   
“We're here!” He laughed, his big green eyes lighting up.   
“Yes,” you nodded. “What do you want to do today?”  
“Tell me a story!” He requested as you landed on an empty clearing.   
A large smile drew on your face and you sat down on the tender grass, patting the spot next to you to gesture him to join you. Peter cradled in your lap and you placed your hand on his head, running your fingers through his locks.   
“Do you know the story of how the Moon fled from the sky because it was jealous of the Sun?”  
Peter shook his head, watching you like you were the unique holder of the universe's secrets and you were about to tell him. 

*

A few days passed before you went to Peter Pan. He had vowed to leave you alone to allow you to recover your wiped memories, yet it as torture for him to know you were one your own, wandering on the island. An island you used to know better than him, but then the dark curse occurred while you were on a journey in the Enchanted Forest and you got caught up in the magic storm.   
This day marked the beginning of the end for Peter. His pain was earth-quaking and the whole island shook and the Sun hadn't been seen in months before finally, his hurt eased a bit – he came to terms with your death.  
Then, everything changed. A hundred years later, you came back on Neverland, with not a single memory left of your time here.   
“You still come here,” you chuckled, observing Peter from the ground. You stood at the foot of Peter's thinking tree. His legs hang down one of the strongest branches. He didn't acknowledge you so you took upon yourself to get his attention and decided to climb up the tree. Disregarding your unfit piece of clothing, you climbed anyway, soon joining him on that branch he was sitting on. By the time you had reached him, he was staring at you so intently that you blushed.   
A comfortable silence settled in, but you didn't come here to listen the the soothing sound of the sleeping forest. “Why did you kidnap Henry?” You wondered, curiosity taking over any kind of reproach your tone might have contained.   
“I needed his heart,” Peter said de facto.   
“Yes, I know. But why? What happened? This place isn't supposed to wear out, I made it immortal. You're immortal,” you said, confused as to what the circumstances were at the time of your arrival with the heroes. The very thought of you creating Neverland was mind blowing to you, but your recently recovered memories didn't lie. Peter claimed Henry's heart because the boy was the Truest Believer, but why did he need the power of such a heart in the first place?  
“It feeds on your energy though,” Peter stated flatly. “Without you everything... fades. You accused me of staining Neverland, said that I spoiled it during your absence, but it wasn't me. You've been away for such a long time... The island feels your absence just like I feel it,” he explained, bringing a hand over his heart to illustrate his words. “And it languishes,” he finished, his eyes leaving yours to fixate the ground before jumping off the branch. You joined him as fast as your attire allowed you to move.   
“Causing you pain was the last thing I wanted Peter, believe me. But taking the life of an innocent child as a means to an end was wrong and unjustified,” you answered sternly. You loathed the feeling of causing him sorrow – and you couldn't quite figure out why you were wary of him in the first place.   
It's true that he showed quite an amount of animosity to your companionship when you arrived to take Henry back from him, but you had replayed in your head the moment he recognized you; he was shocked beyond words, genuinely enraptured at the very sight of you, even though you were unaware of the reason behind it. The merciless boy known for taking children from their homes to bring them here and play tricks with people's minds, was not the Peter standing in front of you.  
Only a dark mind like his could have done what he did, only Peter and his twisted way of dealing with things could keep Neverland while you were gone. Yet you feared that this task destroyed the spirit of the boy, and that he wasn't the same as when you left.   
“Yet you did,” he looked up, the deep and shadowy green of his eyes reflecting the stars above, shining like so many bits of silver. “As for what I've done, I don't owe you an explanation. You must have figured out by now that I'm no longer on the light side of magic,” he chuckled somberly, his euphemism being source of amusement to him.   
He tried to keep away from you, although you didn't know if it was a gallant way of giving you space or for his own benefit. With one long step you closed the space between you two and detailed him, much to his confusion. No warning given, your vision troubled. To your astonishment, you realized you were brought to tears. For a solid ten seconds, both of your hands stayed in the air, inches from Peter's shoulders, as if scared to touch him, but paradoxically needing to touch him more than anything in the world. Finally, you placed them on him, feeling him tense up the moment you came into contact. One of your hands moved up to his face.  
“Evil isn't born,” you said, smiling through your tears as you caressed Peter's cheek, like you used to do when he was little. “-it is made, Peter. I made you evil,” you finished, your voice breaking in the middle of the sentence before finally the first tear tumbled down your pale cheeks.   
“You made me. Period,” Peter corrected you, his eyes filled with fury. “I should be thanking you for that. In fact, I do. Before you found me I was just a defenseless orphan, the world would have torn me to pieces!”  
“You were just a little boy when I found you!” You argued. “You were strong, I know it! I had no right to do what I did.”  
“Make me fierce and feared? Powerful?” Peter asked. “Evil isn't half as bad as being a victim!”  
“You had a family!” You cried out, trying to reason him.   
“My family was dead!” He shouted, pushing you away from him and causing you to trip and fall. He froze right on the spot, suddenly seeming to realize that he was going too far. Kneeling down to help you up, Peter offered you his hand and you saw remorse in his eyes for making you fall.   
“Your brother though,” you insisted. Something light fell on your cheek, and you brushed it off.   
“He died too,” he reminded you, his eyes darkening. “I do not wish to talk about it now (Y/N), I just-” the words were suspended in the air as the rest of the sentence stayed stuck in his throat. Peter looked up towards the sky, which made you follow his gaze to see what had caught his attention.   
That's when you felt something fall on your forehead. You frowned, bringing your fingers up to wipe it away and see what it was. A small drop of something light and crystalline rested on the tip of your forefinger. The crevice between your brows deepened.   
“Is it- is it snowing?” You wondered out loud, realizing that you must have sounded really dumb. Could it even snow on Neverland? No, it couldn't, it wasn't nearly cold enough and there hadn't been seasons since you stopped the time. It wasn't exactly like snow. It sparked. When it touched your skin, the drop, the snowflake – whatever it was – disappeared in a flicker of light and a 'pst' sound, leaving you with more questions than answers, as usual. Another one landed on the back of your hand and third on your cheek, both changing into a tiny firework, resulting in a spray of shiny dust.   
“Of course not,” Peter groaned, as if growing tired of having to explain you everything.   
“Then what is it?” You insisted, suddenly becoming aware that you had slipped your hand in his as a reflex when the surprise of seeing magic dust fall from the sky had you starting. “Answer me at once!”  
“I'll make a deal with you,” he grinned and you recognized the smirk he used when he had something on his mind. “I'll answer whatever you want if you give me something in exchange.”  
This was typical of Peter, you just knew it in your heart, despite not having all the piece of your puzzled memory yet. It made no sense though, you clearly were in no position of power here, and there wasn't a thing you could think of that he wasn't already aware of. What could he want? You nodded slightly, gesturing him to continue, that you were listening to his offer.  
“There's something you never wanted to tell me. Now I want to know,” he told you, his lips brought together in a thin line as he glared at you threateningly, his nostrils flaring and his blood pulsing in his veins like a wild torrent.   
“Ask,” you told him.  
“Why me?” His question was elusive, but you knew exactly what he meant. Why did you chose him amid all the other boys you could have brought here?   
Your features soften when you heard his request, relieved that it was only that. You might not remember why you hid this information from him, but at least, you had the answer.   
“As soon as you regain that piece of memory, that is,” he resumed. He seemed to deem he had made his point and Peter was through with giving you his sharp look.   
“I don't need to, Peter. Looking at you is enough,” you responded, once again taking him aback. His reaction gave you the confidence to completely suppress the remaining space between your two bodies. His hands naturally found your waist before he could stop himself, and you felt his hot breath on your neck when he let out a deep sigh. Goosebumps arose on your skin and a shiver ran down your spine, reminding you of how chilly it was tonight. Your slender fingers tugged at Peter's green leather shirt, gripping tightly at the material, desperately holding onto him. If it was possible to press your body further into his you would have done it.   
The tip of your nose brushed along his neck and jaw. Not daring to put your lips against his neck yet, you let your irregular breath caress his skin, making Peter lean his head towards you, unconsciously asking for more attention.   
“It's because of your eyes,” you uttered in his ear as your hand moved up to his neck, fiddling with the hair on the back of his head. Peter's eyes snapped open and he pulled back just enough to look at you quizzically. “They are the same breath-taking color as the star from which Neverland was born,” you told him.  
Whereupon you were both caught in a storm of shimmering star-dust, hiding you away from the world as the wind purposely made it twirl around your two intertwined bodies at the exact moment your lips grazed against each other, slowly remembering what it felt like to be in each others' arms.

*

The young boy sniffled and used his the sleeve of his worn out linen shirt to wipe his nose, all the while his green eyes stared at his feet, as if ashamed of his crying fit.   
“Peter,” you silently made your way towards the boy, your bare feet making no sound on Neverland's tender ground. Bringing you hand to his head to stroke it comfortingly, you sat down next to him. Peter had grown so much in the last years... He was now eight years old, and you could tell he would be taller than you soon. “What is it that causes you sorrow? Neverland is no place for such anguish, my boy,” you tried to soothe him.   
Peter dived his head in your bosom, finding comfort in your kind presence and soft voice. He was much stronger than he looked like, and if he cried in front of you, it must have been serious.   
“My big brother is sick,” he sniveled.   
That's right, Peter had an older brother, David. He was thirteen and he had caught bad fever nobody seemed to know what to do.   
“Can't you bring him here?” He suddenly asked you, sitting straight up and looking right into your astonished eyes. “You could take away his pain, right? You could do it on Neverland?”  
After a minute or so you had no other choice but to look away from him, to escape from the hopeful eyes he darted on you. He was right, in theory. But you would have to keep him here at all times and then the two brothers would be separated just the same. He might not like it here, find it lonely – it was, after all. Not to mention that you knew he had a crush on the baker's daughter and he wouldn't want to live away from her – bringing him here, forcing him to be alive without being able to live his life might be more cruel than to let him die. That being said, you had never brought a sick person on your island, and there was no guarantee that Peter's brother would heal.  
“I cannot do that Peter,” you sighed achingly. “There's nothing I can do. Death is part of life, and nobody gets to escape their death. When your time has come, you have to accept it; tomorrow morning, if your brother has made it through the night, you will tell him how much you love him and say goodbye.”  
The little boy frowned his brows and shook his head to show his disagreement, but your mind was made. With your fingers you traced the outline of his jaw, taking his chin in your hand to steady his shifty eyes.   
“Peter- Peter! Look at me!” You demanded sternly, although it was difficult for you to raise your voice against this teary-eyed boy who wanted to save his big brother. “There is no pain that time cannot erase. You might not believe me now, but eventually you'll see.”  
“Why is it that we have to die?!” He shouted, suddenly raising to his feet and stomping away. “It's not fair!”  
You stayed where you sat, watching him struggle to keep his angry tears from flowing, admiring the boy's fierceness. Only eight and already so proud that he didn't want you to see him cry.   
“You're right, but my powers have their limits and I can only control what happens on Neverland. Do not dwell upon what is out of your control Peter, focus your energy on the things you can change,” you wisely told him. For a second, his shoulders stopped shaking and he seemed to let your words sink in.   
A foreign coldness invaded your body and you felt as though your heart was frozen still in your chest. A strand of your shimmering silver hair fell down your shoulder, provoking a shiver that caused goosebumps to erupt on your skin. “Come here,” you said. Peter swirled around and you gestured him to come back to you, which he did. He crawled in your lap as you demanded and you rested your chin atop his thick curls of disheveled dirty blond hair. You wiped off a stain of dried mud on his full cheek, making him protest but mostly out of pride. A soft yet pained laughter made it past your lips, and it surprised you to note that it was a real heart ache for you to laugh in this situation.   
If there was a way to spare Peter from the loss he was about to experience, you would do it, but sometimes things just didn't go the way you wanted. That was something you had yet to accept, and the advice you gave Peter earlier applied to you as well.  
Unbeknownst to you both, a thin rain of glittering dust started falling from the sky. Your eyes darted upwards to the stars and if you looked closely you could see them shattering and crying along to the silent weeps of your agonizing heart. The dust fell and fell, covering everything with a thin layer of sparkling glitters that brought a new sense of liveliness to everything it touched.   
“Peter, look up!” You enjoined the boy to leave the comforting shelter of your arms to see what was happening.   
“Wow!” He suddenly beamed, momentarily pushing aside his worries. “What is it?” He asked, his fingers already reaching out to try and catch a speck of the magic dust.  
“It's stardust,” you explained, pointing to the stars above. “They know when I'm sad, and they cry for me.” For the little boy it must have been complicated to understand your bound with the island, but he accepted your explanation nonetheless, blindly trusting your words.   
“Why are you sad?” Peter asked innocently. “Can I make you feel better?”  
“No Peter,” you said, gently pushing a lock of his hair from his forehead. His big green eyes laid upon you a worried look, as if the roles were traded and you were the child. “My pain is only mine to carry. And I am sad because I don't like to see you so worrisome, it brings misery to my heart.”  
“I promise I won't be sad anymore then!” The boy stated with determination, forcefully removing the last remains of dried tears off his cheeks.   
Another laugh fell from your lips and you kissed his temple.  
“Oh Peter,” you said to yourself, your hand lingering on his head, playing with his messy hair. “What will I do when you're not there anymore?” You wondered out loud.  
“I will always be there!” He argued, seeming upset that you could ever think he wouldn't.   
“There will come a time where you will be too old to believe and you won't be able to come back to Neverland,” you sadly told him, although you weren't sure he could understand what it meant. “You'll grow old, find a nice girl to marry and have kids. You'll die at an old age, in the comfort of your bed. And I'll still be here,” you couldn't help yourself from dwelling in your own melancholy. Over the years you had found a great listener in Peter – kids were so clueless of the world's cruelty and free of judgment. But you didn't want to make Peter feel bad.  
“No!” He exclaimed, protesting vividly. “I don't want to make you sad! I'll never grow old and I'll never die!”   
The will and determination in his tone were so strong - he truly did believe he could decide not to grow up at all and live forever – that you didn't find the courage to contradict him and simply opened your arms for him to cradle in your lap again.

*

When you pulled away from Peter, you shook your head to rid yourself of the stardust – that you now remembered, was actually what Peter liked to call pixie dust – and to your amazement, you found yourself having completely silver hair falling down your back to your lower back.  
“One of the greatest property of the pixie dust is its ability to return everything to its original state. It reveals the true nature of what it touches,” Peter patiently explained when he met your confused gaze.   
“I just got a memory back,” you whispered, not exactly for him to hear, but out of joy.   
“What was it?” Peter asked, apparently genuinely curious as to what came back to you.   
“Do you remember the day you first saw this?” You asked him, grinning madly as you collected a bit of stardust in the palm of your hand. You blew on it, causing it to spread everywhere.   
“Yes,” Peter nodded, a quick and almost unnoticeable flash of grief sparked in his beautiful green eyes and your smile dropped. “The day my brother died,” he recalled.  
Right after Peter got back to the orphanage, his brother passed away as you predicted. In a mechanical gesture to bring him comfort, you placed your hand on the back of his head and pulled him down gently to allow your foreheads to touch.   
“You told me you'd never grow old and never die so you could stay with me forever,” you reminded him, the image of the young boy full of hope still printed in your brain.   
“Yes, I remember clearly saying that. I didn't want to be the reason for your sadness. Even back then I was in love with you,” he snickered, offering you his crooked smirk that made his charm. You raised an eyebrow at him, silently asking him to explain himself. “Darling, this expression only flatters me,” he commented on you using his signature eyebrow move. “You can't be oblivious to the fact that I was a young boy with a crush on you,” he said, although it sounded more like a question than a statement.   
“I'm sure I would remember if I did know that,” you argued, frowning for good this time. You stepped in front of Peter, immediately catching his gaze upon you. Something about you felt off since the last memory flowed back to you, and before he could protest, Peter felt your hands unbuckled his belt and whip it off. His puzzled eyes never left you as he watched you put on the belt and steadying the dress you had made yourself, finally allowing you to move freely without the constant fear of losing it. Still speechless, Peter's mouth fell open when you ripped the skirt of your dress open over your right leg, to be freer of your movements.   
“Better,” you huffed, pushing your hair back so it wouldn't fall in front of your eyes.   
“(Y/N),” Peter started.  
“No,” you said. “Not (Y/N),” you shook your head. “My real name, Peter. What's my real name?”  
He hesitated. “You said you'd give me whatever answers I asked for if I told you why I chose you,” you reminded him your deal.  
“I know. Don't you want to remember it by yourself?” He smirked. “Where's the fun if I tell you?”  
“The fun is that I don't kick your ass for lying to me,” you narrowed your eyes at him. You could act soft and nice but if Peter intended to play you, you'd make sure to return the favor. “C'mon,” you chuckled faintly. “You just confessed your love for me, saying a name shouldn't be that hard.”  
“Like I said,” Peter began to say, closing the space between you two and bringing his hands to your hips, preventing your from escaping his intense stare. “Where's the fun in telling you? I promised I would answer your questions, I didn't say I would do it immediately.”  
Instead of pushing him away as he would have expected, you placed your palms on his chest, your small hands gripping on his shirt like your life depended on it and you stood on your tiptoes so you'd be at eye level with the tall boy.   
“I will show you fun,” you uttered before brushing your nose along his jawline, feeling him stiffen in your arms.   
“Is that a promise?” Peter managed to breath out as one of your hands traveled upwards to mingled with the hair at the back of his head, gently playing with it and never once pulling him closer, to his utmost frustration.   
You didn't need to answer his question for the said promise still floated in the air around you two. Suddenly, your tangled bodies were plunged in the water and for a second or so, Peter let go of you out of shock. You swam to the surface and opened your eyes to see that you had managed to transport the both of you where you wanted – the waterfall. Lost Boys weren't allowed here, it was you and Peter's special place.  
Not waiting for your approval, Peter grabbed you by the arm and led you closer to the edge, where he could stand in the water and not drown – he knew your little games by heart and didn't mind at all, but drowning wasn't part of his plan. A satisfied grin cracked his face, wiping away all trace of seriousness, and he was all over you before you could even catch your breath.   
It was only when his lips collided with yours and started moving slowly, letting you time to remember them, time to remember the way he felt on your lips, the way he tasted, that you realized just how incomplete you had felt during your stay in Storybrooke. It was as if the last piece of a giant puzzle was put back in its right place, and finally the drawing was complete, the picture was whole – and so were you.  
A smile appeared on your lips and you responded to Peter's urgent kiss, returning all the passion, devotion and need he tried to convey through that single act of love. Your arms looped around his neck to steady yourself as you deepened the kiss, parting your lips to allow him inside your mouth. Your wet dress clung to your body, it's light and bluish material not hiding much anymore. Your bare leg stuck through the rip in the skirts and you quickly wrapped it around Peter's hips to prevent the water from making you drift away from his body.   
This ignited something within you that made you moan a little when eventually you broke the kiss to catch your breath, panting in Peter's arms. 

*

It took all your strength to push him away, but you managed to break the kiss and pull back before getting carried away.  
“No! Peter, don't do that,” you requested, stepping back as you said so. You hands that formerly rested on his shoulders had dropped on your sides, limply hanging there. The Peter in front of you had grown, exactly as you predicted – he was slightly taller than you. Of age eighteen, he was chased by the orphanage and had once again come back to you. It was a miracle that he could still come to Neverland in regards of his advanced age.   
“Why not? You want it too, I can feel it!” He shouted, deceit leaving place for anger in his ever so green eyes. Every time you took a look at them, you remembered why you started doing what you did.   
“Of course I want it, but that's not relevant!” You argued patiently, trying to reason him.   
“It certainly is to me,” he replied. “If I remember well – and I know I do – I once promised I would always stay by your side,” Peter told you, not letting you forget that day when he was eight and swore to you that he would always be there. “Peter Pan never goes back on a promise.”  
“Peter Pan doesn't exist!” You harshly reminded him. “That Peter is only real here, but you have a life, I can't take this from you!”  
“You're not taking anything away from me!” He protested, closing the gap separating you with one large step. Taking your wrists in his hands, he brought your palms to his chest, right above his heart. You could tell it was breaking speed records. He was scared. Nervous maybe. And terribly honest.  
“I do not aspire to have a long and dull life with a boring wife and annoying children to care for, Luna,” Peter eventually continued, his voice quieter than before. “I want to be with you. Let me be the one who doesn't leave. Allow me to spend eternity by your side.”

*

“Luna,” you uttered in between kisses. “Luna.”  
Peter blinked a couple time after pulling away just enough to allow him to have a better look at you. Your eyes were smiling as wide as your lips, and you were glowing brighter than your hair ever could. The calming sound of the waterfall behind you was the only thing to be heard for a solid minute, until Peter broke into a laughter so heartfelt that you felt your vital organ miss a beat.   
“My Luna,” he whispered against your skin, his mouth finding your weak spot right where your shoulder met your neck, causing a soft sigh to tumble down your lips. “Oh, how I have missed you.”  
“I'm never leaving you again,” you scarcely managed to moan out when Peter's fingers dug in the flesh of your thighs, still wrapped around him, to lift you up and walk out of the water with you in his arms. As gently as he could, Peter laid you down on the grass before ridding himself of his drenched clothes, running a hand through his wild hair to push it out of his sight.   
“Now, do you remember who you are?” He asked, his left eyebrow flying up.  
“Is there more to it than my name?” You replied with another question. But your mind was foggy and distracted by the sight of him hovering over you and your hands fumbled with the belt you stole from him to take it off and throw it aside with Peter's wet shirt and water filled boots.  
There was tacit rule between you two, and if you showed so much as a second of hesitation, Peter would have backed off immediately, but you leaned on your elbows to capture his lips once again, pulling him down with you as you kissed him deeply. Within minutes, you had ballasted Peter of his pants and he had slipped the dress off of you, all the while strewing kisses on your body, biting here and there, teasing you and enjoyed the sounds you made in response to his touch.  
You clasped your legs each side of his waist, grinding into him to urge him to take you. It has been so long since you felt this way – completely and utterly content, happy and well. Peter's mischievous green eyes shimmered with malice and joy when he looked down on you, as if feeding on the very sight of you, not believing his eyes.  
“Luna-” He started but you cut him off.  
“Peter, take me at once!” You ordered him, once again grinding into him, earning a groan in response. Suddenly, you could feel Peter slip inside you swiftly, in one thrust. You threw your head against your mattress of grass, closing your eyes under the wave of pleasure and giddiness. Little gasps and deep moans fell from your lips, out of your control, and you welcomed the feeling of him.   
Your fingers moved up to his face, cupping his face and kissing him yet again, not having enough of him. His rhythmic and deep thrusts had you panting within minutes, the pace slowly driving yo to the edge. Your pale and China-like skin glowed in the light of the moon, still covered in trickles of water and sweat as your body shook under Peter's relentless pace and his muffled grunts against the skin of your neck.   
You were made to me together, that you were certain of, and to you nothing could compare to the feeling of behind in this position with Peter. Sex was the most beautiful mean of self-expression you could think of, and if it was to be compared to art, you two sure were a masterpiece. It felt like you'd been carved to be together, each and every nook and curve of your body fit his, and the very thought of losing this special bond had you desperate. The familiar warmness in the pit of your stomach started building up. With his face buried in the crook of your neck, Peter fastened his rhythm and your eyes shot open, only to meet the infinite sky with its stars and the breathtaking moon – only witness of your intimacy.   
“Peter,” you sighed contentedly, feeling the knots in your stomach all untangle at once. You tipped over the edge, soon followed by your lover who collapsed next to you on the soft ground. Your eyes were still fixated upon the sky, as if mesmerized and suddenly it clicked. Peter's stare on you was intense, you could feel him trying to memorize your features. Your head snapped to the right to face him, and everything was once again silent apart from the water hitting the rocks at the bottom of the fall. Peter's hand had never left your waist and you shifted to your side to face him, throwing a leg over his to try and keep the warmth of your bodies.   
“Peter,” you whispered again, as if afraid someone could hear you.  
“Mmh,” he hummed in response, waiting for you to continue. Mindlessly, his fingers ran up and down your side. “What is it, my beloved Luna?”  
“I am the spirit of the Moon,” you stated just like that. His hand froze mid-air and he stared at you in confusion, before that familiar and irresistible smirk returned to his face.   
“I'm glad you remember dear,” he chuckled lowly.  
“And I love you too,” you felt the need to tell him as if he would need more than actions to understand just how deeply you care for him.   
There were still some shadowy parts of your past that you haven't remembered but as soon as the words crossed your lips, you knew that you had never told them before. And just like that, Peter Pan knew that this time, there was no separating you.


	2. Prequel to Once Upon in Neverland

The very reason behind your presence here remained a mystery, even to you. 

Something cold, wet and rough scratched against your cheek, the biting of the wind on your drenched body sent a flash of pain through your bones and your eyes fluttered open, only to see a blurred version of what was before you. The brightness of the sun hurt your sore eyes so you closed them again.  
At some point you realized that you were laying on the ground. It wasn’t totally hard like stone, but still highly uncomfortable and every single one of your tired limbs screamed you to get up but no matter how ardently you desired to raise and find shelter to warm yourself, your body refused to move even the slightest bit. One would expect you to start panicking at that point, but your ever so calm and collected nature was what drove you and you took a deep breath, tasting the salty water against your tongue and coughing it out. Slowly, your hands woke up and then your feet.   
The Jollyroger. The mermaid. The storm. The last hours’ events came back to you as your numb mind woke up from its slumber. It dawned to you that the others shouldn’t be too far away, and that you should probably go and find them. With a groan of pain, you brought your hands up against the flat surface of wet sand and started pushing up to get on your feet. When you did so, the world around you began to spin uncontrollably, several minutes passing by before you eventually regained your balance and clear vision of your surroundings.   
“Hey!” You yelled for anyone to hear, surprised at how hoarse your voice sounded, as if you hadn’t used it in days. The sea water you had obviously swallowed before ending up on this shore burnt your throat, making it feel like someone was shoving a piece of white hot iron down your throat. “Anyone here?!” You shouted again, disregarding the ache and burn.   
But although you waited two minutes in silence to see it somebody had heard you, no one answered your desperate shout. For a second you wondered if you might have ended up on the wrong island, on another island than the rest of your group. Before you even had the time to give it a second thought, you shook that idea away. They had to be here, they couldn’t be far, you just had to find them.   
The sound of shaking branches caused your head to perk up at the trees in front of you, eyes and ears alert. Was someone watching you? Would your feet be able to carry you if that spy was a threat? You took a few steps closer to the line of trees, still staring intently in the direction from which the sound of ruffling leaves came from. Those questions would never find an answer, for it was that moment Snow White and Charming chose to come out of the forest.   
“(Y/N)!” They shouted with one voice.   
Your head snapped towards them and at that moment, you’d swear you heard another shaking branch and you knew your spy had gone away, inwardly cursing your friends for having so poor of a timing.   
“We’ve been looking for you for the last hour, what happened?” Snow worried, her hands immediately started to fumbled with your wet clothes and trying to pull your outfit together when she reached you, as if by doing so it would make you feel any less shitty and cold.   
“I woke up here a few minutes ago,” you answered flatly, your eyes drifting back to the trees. “We’re not alone.”  
“Yeah, we know,” Charming nodded, acknowledging the fact that you were spied on. “Emma and Regina tried to capture one of them but they are too quick and they know the terrain.”  
“It’s a little advantage, but an advantage nonetheless,” Snow sighed, still not looking you in the eyes and wiping the sand that stuck to your clothes away.   
“So far we don’t even know if we’re on the right island,” Charming continued, his watchful eyes scanning the horizon, but finding nothing out of the norm. There were trees and birds and all kinds of sounds you’d expect nature to do, but nothing unusual whatsoever.   
“We are,” you stated before you could stop yourself. You had no idea what possessed you, but something inside you, something purely instinctive, told you that this was indeed, the exact place you were meant to be. “We’re on Neverland.”  
The Charmings stared at you, mouth gaped and unsure of what to say – it was obvious that they had some questions about what made you think they had reached their goal, but they knew better than to question your assertions. The Prince was the first to nod.  
“Good. Let’s go find the others than.”

*

“We have to sleep, Emma,” Snow told her daughter softly. The blond haired woman had been in a frenzy ever since Henry was taken away, and if it was for her to decide, none of you would get any sleep or any kind of rest until the boy was back with his family. You scoffed, watching her eyes burn with unleashed rage. At least, Regina could keep herself composed, although you noticed the way she frowned and started whenever a sound a bit too loud was to be heard. Everybody was tired, lost, and jumpy.   
It still amazed you that they actually asked you to accompany them on this ‘quest’. You were never one for big heroic gestures and you put an insane amount of effort into not getting involved with any of their misadventures – but where could you run when you lived in Storybrooke? Apart from exiling yourself in the woods, there was no way you could hide from them. You worked at Granny’s and the only person you truly valued as a friend was Ruby – until she left. Despite your endeavor to stay away from their problems, Snow, Charming and Emma always found a way to drag you in them, claiming that you were as much of an advantage on their enemies as Regina or Rumpelstiltskin. You had no particular power to your knowledge, but your mind was sharp as a sword and you were quick to analyze the situation, you stayed calm and unaffected no matter the circumstances. Rumpelstiltskin often said, with his infamous enigmatic tone, that you were an old soul stuck in the body of a young woman.   
You simply shrugged it off, taking it as a compliment, and not bothering searching a hidden meaning behind this. Your logical mind and high sense of priorities often made you appear as cold and distant to the persons who don’t know you, but you couldn’t give less of a damn about what the folks thought of you. After the Dark Curse had been lifted by the Savior, everyone got the memories of their previous life back, except for you, therefore you deemed you had all the rights to be bitter and grumpy from time to time.   
“We’re close now, we have to be!” Emma said, turning around to look her mother in the eyes. “If we stop now w-”  
“We’ll start searching for Henry again at the break of dawn Emma, but right now, we need to rest – look at us!” Snow gestured around, pointing out of poorly we looked with our clothes stiff and crusty from the dried salt water and our disheveled hair and red eyes. Everyone except Regina looked like they had just crawled out of a hole in the dirt. The witch wouldn’t ‘waste her magic’ on us to fix us up.   
“But-”  
“Aye, your mother is right, Swan,” Hook intervened, earning a furious glare from the blond woman. “We can sleep here, I’ll take first watch.”  
“It’s settled then,” you said, sitting down ungracefully, with a loud thud and a sigh of content when your feet needn’t carry you any longer. You didn’t wait for the others to make themselves comfortable and laid down, falling asleep as soon as your head found the tender grass of the small clearing you found in the middle of the forest.  
You woke up what felt like two minutes after falling asleep, being forced awake by somebody shaking you by the shoulders forcefully. Your eyes shot open, glaring daggers to whoever dared disturb your slumber and fell face to face with Emma, harboring a weary yet distressed expression.  
“What’s the matter?” You asked, already on your two feet.  
“Shhh!” Emma gestured you to shush and you did, although not really delighted to be woken up in the middle of your restorative sleep only to be told to shut up. “Don’t you hear that?” She asked, keeping her ears open. All you heard was the nocturnal noises of the sleeping forest. You shook your head no. “Dammit, I can’t be the only one to hear!” She cursed, frowning.  
“There is nothing to hear Emma,” you said, earning an angry glare. “Listen, if you really do hear something, let’s just find out what it is so we can get back to sleep,” you rolled your eyes at her. Henry’s disappearance was troubling her to the point that she woke up in the middle of the night because she was hearing stuff.   
“Someone’s crying,” she said in a whisper. “You really don’t hear anything?”  
Honestly, if there was something to hear, you would have been up and awake way before her, but there was absolutely nothing to hear. Unless…  
“It’s a trap,” you whispered.  
“What?” Emma asked, frowning.  
“Perhaps you are the only one meant to hear it. It’s meant to lure you away from us,” you explained.  
“That makes no sense, why wou-”  
“I don’t know, Emma, I can only do so much. If you want answers go find them!” You snapped, your advanced tired and mediocre state causing you to be on edge. You shot her an apologetic glance and sighed. “I’ll go with you,” you simply stated before grabbing Snow’s bow and arrows. “You lead the way since I can’t hear this weeping person you speak of.”

*

Emma took careful steps as she made her way through the thick greenery of Neverland, aggressively cutting branches out of her way with her sword as you followed suit, hands grasping tightly the bow in your hands, ready to shoot at any moment were it needed.   
“We’re getting close, the cries are a lot louder than before,” she suddenly said, stopping in her track.  
“Then why do you stop?” You asked, watching her freeze on the spot with a confused frown. You didn’t like this place. The more you walked farther into the wood, the worse the feeling in your guts became. Something about this place in particular was off. Your entire body was screaming that you shouldn’t be here.  
“Something’s wrong…” She mindlessly whispered, more to herself than to answer your question. “It’s too silent.”  
“You just said the noise was getting louder,” you argued, considering the fact that she might be losing her mind over Henry’s loss.   
“The cries, yes. But what about the other sounds. Hear?” She gestured around her. “Nothing.”  
She was right, and you felt ashamed and angry that you didn’t notice before that the sounds of the sleeping forest had left place for an absolute and unnatural silence.   
“Stay here,” Emma ordered you. You were about to protest when you heard footsteps. Quick as light, you practically disappeared from where you stood to go hide in the shadow, not allowing the moonlight to shine on you and reveal your presence. As the Savior walked closer to the huge oak tree in front of her, you took an arrow out of the quiver and aimed in her direction, keeping your watchful eyes open, ready to shoot at anything lurking in the dark and representing a threat.   
“I thought you’d hear it,” a voice suddenly said and out of nowhere, a boy appeared in your line of sight. He was partly hidden in the shadow of the tree, but you could tell he was young and tall. His body language showed that he was relaxed – he was leaned against the tree.   
Emma jumped back when his voice ripped through the silence, directing her sword at him.  
“You’re Emma, right?” The boy asked, a confident smirk painting on his face when he stepped out of the dark. “I wonder why they can’t hear the cries…” He said with a fake confused tone, obviously enjoying himself. You held you bow tight, the arrow being directed right at his heart. Apart from Snow White, you were the best archer there was in Storybrooke, there was no chance he would make it out alive if he took so much as one step closer to Emma.  
“And who are you?” She asked, still holding her sword firmly, although her voice betrayed her surprise and what you’d venture to call a hint of fear.   
“Oh, did I forget to introduce myself?” He kept on grinning, once again faking manners and talking in a condescending tone that made you want to pull a knot on his tongue. The bad feeling returned, creating a sense of unease in your stomach and making your throat tighten.   
“I’m Peter. Peter Pan,” the boy said, a wide smirk adorning his soft features. His dirty blond hair was messily pulled back and his entire outfit was made of brown and greenish natural materials. He didn’t look like the terrible, fear inducing, demon boy that people liked to describe him as. You almost scoffed and lowered your weapon, though not placing the arrow back in the quiver yet.   
But just then, you saw him go and try to take away Emma’s sword. Before you even knew it, you had released the arrow, and it flew right towards the infamous Peter Pan. You didn’t aim his heart though, you were going for his sleeve, pinning him against the giant tree behind him. The look of utter shock on his previously confident expression when you came out of your hiding spot was unsettling to you.   
The boy had to be about your age you realized now that you stood only a few steps away from him. The strangest thing dawned to you: he didn’t look one bit concerned about the arrow stuck under his sleep and pinning him to the oak, but the source of the shock on his face seemed to be you. His eyes were open wide, alight with perplexity and a dash of anger, not once drifting away from your face, as if you were a ghost of some sort.   
“You try something like that again, and the next one will be for your eye,” you warned him, pointing another arrow at him and making sure to sound as threatening and serious as you possibly could with his intense stare directed at you, making you feel uncomfortable.   
The fleeting spark of hesitation you thought you’d seen in his emerald eyes was soon to be gone, and his grin was back.   
“You’ve got fire,” he told you, making sure to look at you from head to toe. If it weren’t for the dark hiding your cheeks flushing with red, you would have released the arrow just to spare you the embarrassment of seeing his satisfied smirk when he saw your fluster. “I like fire,” he continued, still giving you an odd look. It made you feel as though he was trying to tell you something through eye contact, but you had never seen this boy before – Hell knows you’d remember if you had met Peter Pan – and you couldn’t quite understand why he looked so troubled by you.   
Your incoherent inner rambling was interrupted by Emma.  
“Where is Henry?!” She shouted at Pan. She walked past you and put her sword against the boy’s throat. “Where is my son?”  
His attention went back to the blond woman pressing a blade to his throat. “Henry’s still alive,” he simply stated. Emma’s fury seemed to make her oblivious to his hesitant tone, but you caught the slight change in his voice, as well as the quick glance he shot your way.   
“Why the hell did you take him? What do you want with him?” She questioned him, applying some more pressure to his throat. Usually you’d approve of her method but right now, it made you want to grab her by her long blond hair and pull her back to free Pan from her grip. Stunned by that awful thought, you shook your head to rid you of that idea.   
Peter took a breath, his smirk widening at her questions. You knew that expression, you had seen it before. There was no way on earth he’d tell her anything, he was just playing you both.   
“I came here to see who I was up against,” he grinned. “The ‘Savior’,” he mocked Emma’s title, making the quotation marks very audible through his voice only. Then he focused on you again, his expression growing into a nostalgic one. “And a surprise visitor. I expected to see you alone Emma. But I gotta say I’m not disappointed in your choice of backup.”  
“So what exactly are we doing here? Are you going to tell me I’m never going to see Henry again?” Emma’s patience was wearing thin you could feel it.   
“No,” Peter shook his head like that was the dumbest idea he’s ever heard. “I’m gonna help you find him.”  
This time it was your turn to be frozen on the spot. All of this made little to no sense, but what he just said was beyond absurd.   
“I’ll give you a map,” he said. At this point, he had captured enough of Emma’s interest to make her drop her weapon, allowing him to free himself from the arrow and have access to his jacket, from which he pulled out a piece of folded up paper. “A map that will lead you straight to your son.”  
“If this is some kind of trap…” You started, your arrow still pointing at his chest.   
“I may not be the most well-behaved boy on the island,” Peter started, cutting you off. “But I always keep my promises.”  
A shiver ran down your spine, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your body. You had a feeling his last sentence had no correlation whatsoever with Henry or the map. His mesmerizing green eyes switched back to Emma who was stretching out her hand to grab the paper.  
“The path to finding Henry is on this parchment.”     
“Why would you give it to us?” You questioned him. Part of you wondered if you asked that because you were suspicious of him or because you wanted his attention to be directed back on you. Which, if it’s the case, is a highly disturbing thought to have when facing an enemy.  
“This is not about finding Henry.”   
“Then what?” Emma grew impatient, trying to grab the map from Peter’s hands but he lifted it above his head.  
“It’s about how you find him,” he stated nebulously. This devilish boy seemed to have mastered the art of answering questions without giving any satisfactory answer.   
“And Emma…” He said her name, and you felt something twitch and twist in your stomach. “Only you can do it.”  
This seemed to soothe her worries and Emma took the offered map. Slowly, she opened it, and then shot him a glare.  
“It’s blank,” she stated flatly.   
“You’ll only be able to read that map when you stop denying who you really are.”  
And just like that, he was gone. You spun around, scanning the trees and bushes but finding no evidence of his presence. Emma mimicked your gestures, to no avail. After making sure you were truly alone, Emma decided to head back to the camp and tell the others about your encounter.  
You nodded, though you weren’t exactly listening to what she was saying because you realized something that Emma failed to notice. When Peter talked to her, his eyes kept drifting back towards you. You were lost as can be, and you didn’t even catch half of what just happened, let alone understand what all of this meant. But there was one thing you were certain of: he wasn’t addressing his directions to read the map to her, those were meant for you. 

*

The crippling feeling of unease that haunted you simply wouldn’t go away, even hours after your meeting with Neverland’s King. Emma had woken up all the others to tell them what happened, meanwhile you went to find something to eat, giving hunger as a pretext to go and find some fruit when all you really wanted was to be alone for a while.  
You couldn’t stand seeing Emma staring at that blank piece of paper as if the map would reveal itself if she stared hard enough. Regina paced around like a caged lion, blurting out theories about what Pan meant by stopping to deny who she really was.  
Not telling them that you knew they got it all wrong, because Peter wasn’t talking about Emma at all, was an added weigh to your shoulders, but every time you tried to tell them, you felt something wrench in your insides, making the very act of breathing painful. That’s why you needed to get away from them.   
You heard him before actually seeing him, instantly spinning around and throwing a dagger in the direction from which the suspicious sound came from. Hook gave it to you so you could defend yourself, insisting that it wasn’t safe, and here you were, being followed again. The wobbling dagger was stuck an inch deep into the tree trunk. Your hand was still stretched out and Pan’s cheek harbored a shallow cut where the dagger flew by, grazing his face.   
“Your aim needs a bit of practice, darling,” he chuckled lowly, grabbing the dagger’s pommel and pulling out of the wood.   
“It’s exactly where I intended it to be,” you replied sharply. For some reason, seeing him again, even when you only just left him two hours ago felt like a relief. This feeling you pushed away, denying it even existed, and you directed your anger towards him. What kind of evil magic could this boy be using on you to sway your opinion of him like this? He must have done something, there was no chance on earth you’d get this messed up inside for no reason.   
For a few minutes he played with your weapon, making it twirl in his hands like it was a stick of wood and not a sharp knife that was most definitely used to kill before. Pan walked around you, as if checking you out, analyzing you. Not once did you turn your back to him, you refused to let him out of your sight, fearing that he might vanish in thin air like he did earlier.   
“What do you want?!” You spat at him, putting as much hostility as you could in the look you were giving him.   
“What I want?” He repeated, looking genuinely surprised by your question. “I haven’t heard that one in a while. Well, since you ask so nicely… I want you.”  
“That much I figured,” you scowled back at him, starting to understand how Emma felt when he refused to answer her questions straight forwardly. “Tell me why or the next knife is for your head,” you threatened him. Except there was no other knife, you only brought the one he still held.  
“Mmh…” Peter frowned and resumed his walking around you, obviously enjoying himself. “I think you might want to find something else to threaten me with since I have your dagger,” you said, giving you a chance to find something better.  
“You think I only brought this one?” You asked, a sly smirk stretching your lips as you moved your right hand towards your jacket. “How stupid would that be?”  
In a snap of his fingers, Peter appeared right in front of you, invading your personal space and causing you to jump back in surprise.   
“I’d say pretty darn stupid if you ask me,” he grinned, his eyes darted on you with an unrecognizable spark flashing in them. The emeralds detailing every inch of your face were so eerily deep and troubled that you wondered how old exactly he was. On many levels the saying about the eyes being the window to the soul was true – and you could see the brokenness and torment in Peter’s. “You’re lying (Y/N), you don’t have any more knives, this is bluff.”  
“Are you sure enough to test your assessment?” You challenged him. Perhaps you could get away from him if you pulled the right strings. If he liked to play games, that’s what you’d do.  
“Go ahead,” he gestured you to attack him. “Do your best!” He opened his arms to make it easier to aim for you.  
“Don’t you ever take anything seriously? Aren’t you afraid to die?” You wondered out loud, unable to hold your questions back. There was something in his attitude, you weren’t sure what it was but you could practically put your finger on it. A mix of excitement and exhaustion. Not physical exhaustion, but soul exhaustion, as if he wouldn’t even care that much if you really did put a dagger through his chest. For some reason, this thought repulsed you.   
“Love, I know you’re unarmed, you’re an open book to me,” he stated, letting his arms fall to his sides. “But even if you were holding a knife, I’d let you try and kill me.” It took you aback, you distractedly let your hand drop, forgetting about your imaginary weapon. Once again, Pan came closer to you, stepping forward and closing any kind of distance there was between your two bodies. You could feel his breath on you when he spoke up again, “You see the problem with being the only immortal around is that slowly, things start to grow less and less entertaining, until eventually life tastes like sand and nothing’s really exciting anymore.”  
“Why are you telling me that?” You managed to articulate through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to dive in against his chest and breath in his scent. You still had no idea what possessed you but this was not natural, and you’d rather die trying to fight it off than to give in.  
“Because you seem to think that threatening to kill me will make me let you go. But really, to die would be an awfully big adventure – and to die by your hand would be a privilege.”  
“You’re completely delirious!” You pushed him off, not because of what he said, but because you feared he might notice how painful it was for you to be this close to him. Something inside you screamed that you should run and go back to Emma and the others, while another part of you – one that just seemed to have woken up from a deep slumber – urged you to stay.   
“I say only the truth (Y/N),” he offered you his twisted grin.  
“Stop saying my name! You don’t know me!” You snapped at him, earning yet another confident smirk.  
“Keep telling yourself that,” Peter simply answered. “Deep down, I know you don’t believe it.”  
A scowl escaped your lips and you glared at him as if you were trying to burn a hole through his disheveled head.   
“You’re a pretty little thing (Y/N),” the boy observed, making you want to cover yourself up even more, although you were anything but attractive with your dirty and mud-stained clothes and your hair stiff with salt. “Your return is unexpected but very welcome.”  
The blood in your veins ran cold at his words, but before you had a chance to ask him what he meant by ‘return’, he continued, “Now go back to your friends, they are looking for you.” He said the word ‘friends’ with so much spite that you felt a shiver travel up your arms.   
Once again you wanted to ask him how he knew that, but that’s when he disappeared, leaving you with lots of unanswered questions and an irrepressible feeling of being torn from the inside. 

*

Throughout your journey to save Henry, you saw Peter again, multiple times, and unbeknownst to you, Emma and Hook noticed your changing attitude towards the demon boy that took Henry away from his family. When you returned to the camp after your tête à tête with the infamous lost boy, Regina had hexed the map to lead you to Henry since Emma hadn’t succeeded in making the map appear. From the moment you saw her spell the piece of paper, you knew it wasn’t a good idea. Pan must have thought about this possibility, it couldn’t be that simple.   
The next time you saw him Peter was wearing Henry’s clothes, telling Emma how she shouldn’t have broken the rules of his game, that cheaters never win. The lost boys attacked you, although they seemed to have strict orders not to do so much as hustle you. This was the first time the others noticed that something was wrong. Later that night, after Pan called off his lost boys, Hook took you apart to confront you and you had to pretend you had no idea what happened. Chances are he didn’t believe you, but since he didn’t have anything against you either, he let it go.  
At first, Emma and Hook kept their suspicions to themselves, but then they captured a lost boy to try and contact Henry through him, and the way he looked at you gave it away that it wasn’t the first time you two met, although you couldn’t recall ever seeing the boy before in your life. That’s when things became absurdly complicated. Regina lost her mind and tried throwing one of her fireballs at you, menacing you to get information, but you had none to give.   
The straw that broke the camel’s back was when you went with Hook and Charming in the woods, to try and find a solution to escape Neverland without Pan’s permission once you’ve saved Henry. Peter came back to talk to you, only this time, the conversation wasn’t as private as you thought it was.   
“Don’t pull him up yet,” a voice already way too familiar said behind you. You were atop a cliff, a rope in your hands, readying yourself for pulling Charming up while Hook tried to find another way up. “I wanna talk. Alone,” Peter said from up a small hill.   
You turned around, not surprised to see him anymore. He had already gotten your friends to doubt your intentions, what else could he do? You lost their trust and there was no denying that something was up. It came to the point where even you doubted your own thoughts. Two halves of you battled inside you and you had no idea which one to listen to anymore. You were drawn to Peter Pan, and that frightened you and excited you to a point you seriously considered having gone mad.   
“What do you want?” You sighed, tired of fighting against that string that pulled you to him. Every limb, every fiber of you was exhausted and that didn’t even compare to the state of your mind – you felt yourself losing your sanity to this doomed island, and you were here for only a week or so.   
“To offer you a deal,” Peter smiled as though it was supposed to kindle joy in you. You managed to look a bit interested, even if there was little chance he had anything substantial to offer you. “Stay here on Neverland.” At least that woke you up. Your eyes fluttered for a few seconds, and you shook your head. Had you just imagined what he said? Your mind was too foggy these days to believe everything you heard or saw, but when you closed your eyes to rub them and then opened them again, he was still there, awaiting an answer. “You won’t have to babysit a bunch of brainless heroes that only run on hope. This could be your home. Like good ol’ days.”  
“I don’t recall those good ol’ days you’re talking about Pan, how many times will I have to say it? I’ve never been here before…” You felt like a broken record, always repeating the same thing over and over again.   
“At least one more time, love. What if I offered you something very hard to come by?” Pan insisted, stirring your curiosity. “I’ll give Henry back to his family.”  
Peter appeared so close to you that his chest brushed against your bosom, but by now you’ve grown used to it and didn’t even flinch when you felt his hot breath graze your neck, although it still caused a tingly sensation to erupt in the pit of your stomach. God, you hated that feeling. You hated him. At this moment, you were ready to accept almost anything to get rid of the awful sensation of betraying someone whatever you did, whatever you said. Deep inside, in a part of you that you couldn’t even consciously access to, something told you that your priorities laid in the wrong place, that fighting Pan wasn’t the solution to your inner ache.   
“Not enough,” you breathed out, shaking your head slightly.   
“And what if I sweetened the deal?” He raised an eyebrow, looking almost proud of your resistance. “I’ll give the others a passage off the island. They can all go home, safe and sound thanks to your sacrifice. You’ll win back their trust and be remembered as a hero,” Pan spat the last word as if it was poison, but you chose to ignore this.     
“What if I’m not interested in being a hero?” You asked, just to annoy him.  
“Of course you are,” Peter said confidently, as if he’d known you for too long and too well to have so much as a doubt about what you’ll do. “Because that’s what I’ve always liked about you: you never think of you first. I always thought it was a rather absurd way to live, but it’s who you are.”  
He always spoke of you as if you were old friends, long lost lovers, or acquaintances in another life, and you couldn’t remember when exactly you stopped telling him to talk about you like that, but now it didn’t bother you as much as before. You had come to accept that perhaps, you were the one with a failing memory, and Peter wasn’t making up this whole thing. To your own surprise, you nodded. Your body took over and agreed to this deal before your mind had the time to process the implications behind it entirely, and that’s when you realized you didn’t give a damn about what was to happen from now on. Fighting against yourself took all your strength, and worrying about a herd of reckless heroes who always got themselves into impossible situations from which they somehow always managed to get out, was the last of your priorities.   
Peter grinned widely, satisfied with your answer, and then he vanished in the shadows of the trees as he walked into the night. You sighed and picked up your rope as if nothing had happened at all, and threw it down to help Charming up. Busy battling with your own mind, you hadn’t noticed Hook lurking in the dark, spying on you and Pan’s conversation this whole time.

*

The next day, you felt strangely at peace. Snow White woke you up, a huge smile adorning her face. When you rose from the ground, you saw Henry being engulfed in his mothers’ arms, to the point where he had trouble breathing, and you realized you had traded your own life for his.   
In less than an hour, the group had made it back to the beach where you left the Jollyroger. For a second, you were relieved you didn’t have to go back on that floating wooden junk, feeling sick just by watching her swaying under the force of the waves crashing against the hull. Right there and then, you felt something grab you at the throat and pull you back, drawing the air out of your lungs as the person slammed you against the sand. The hook, cold against your skin, told you who it was before you could even bring your eyes open again. When you did, you were faced with the bright sun and had to close them again.   
“You are not coming, you traitor,” he barked at you.   
“HOOK! What are you doing?!” Snow asked, going hysteric at the pirate’s actions.  
“I’ll be damned if you ever set foot on my ship again,” he threatened you, ignoring Snow’s shouts behind him. “This little brat has been telling nothing but lies since the beginning!” He accused you. “She’s Pan’s inside man!”   
“Killian, calm down!” Charming tried to intervene, urged by his wife’s desperate pulling at his shirt. “On what grounds do you say that?” He asked calmly, trying to reason the pirate.   
“I saw them discuss the conditions of our return, this whole kidnapping was a ploy to manipulate us into bringing her back on the island!”  
“You-” You tried to protest and raise yourself by leaning on your elbows but Hook hit you with his good hand, the blow momentarily dizzying you. It was wrong – all wrong – you didn’t know Peter Pan before coming here, at least, you didn’t know that you knew him. He seemed genuinely astonished when he saw you with Emma that first night on the island, and you’d swear he didn’t plan it all ahead. He got caught up in this maelstrom, just like you, and he had to change his initial plan because of your unexpected arrival on Neverland. Whatever obscure reason he had to take Henry away, in you he had found a better solution to his problem. But now you were faced with a decision you’d never thought you’d have to make.  
“Stop it, Killian!” Emma cried out from somewhere distant – or so it felt to you.   
“No! She deserved it, she’s betrayed us and acted behind our back, pretending to help us when she was only trying to achieve her malevolent goals,” Hook explained to the others. They were frozen still, torn between the evidences Hook presented to them, and all the time they spent with you in Storybrooke. As the minutes flew by, you could practically see them link the dots together and you saw the precise moment in Emma’s eyes when she decided to believe Killian, not even giving you the chance to justify your actions.   
“(Y/N)…” Snow’s soft voice held such perplexity and afflict that you couldn’t even face her. What Hook accused you of was false and if you wanted you could prove them – you knew it – but it was to no use since you were to stay here anyway and never cross paths with them again. They could believe what they wanted, it wasn’t your problem anymore. Besides, it felt a bit like you had stabbed them in the back anyway, so why not take the blame for the whole operation?  
“Is that true?” Snow asked gently, the silence suddenly replacing the shouts of Henry and the adults’ protests.   
It took a few seconds, perhaps even minutes, but at some point, you remembered nodding your head, defeated, and then something hard hit your head and all went black.

You emerged from your black out what felt like hours later, your head throbbing and your eyes adjusting to the daylight with difficulty. The sun was high is the sky – midday probably – and there was no trace of anyone around you, nor was there any ship on the horizon.   
You were alone.  
Or maybe not as alone as you thought. A hand appeared on your shoulder, and you were still void of emotion, numb after what you’ve been through the last past days. You didn’t even shrug it off, knowing it belonged to Peter. You might not remember him from whatever past life you had forgotten about, but after seeing him on so many occasions and having to deal with his nebulous innuendos you felt like you knew him.  
“Somebody once told me that it was pointless to dwell upon what is out of your control,” his voice tore through the deafening silence that made your ears ring – or maybe Hook’s blow was still affecting you. “What’s happened was ineluctable (Y/N), and it cannot be undone.”  
“You made me do it, it wasn’t set in stone as far as I know,” you heard yourself reply sharply, swallowing the lump in your throat. When you looked up to meet his eyes, you saw that he didn’t believe you, just like you didn’t believe what you said. Your attempts at protesting or contesting were pitiful at the best. You shot him a glance that begged him to wipe away your worries regarding the terrible decision you just made, to tell you you were wrong and it was all written like that. He saw the fear of the unknown and the ache of being torn inside between the person you were now and the person you don’t remember you were – in another life, another time, with him, here in Neverland.  
And there was not a fiber of him that didn’t fiercely believe that it would all come back to you if you stayed here long enough.   
“Not in the stone, but it was written in the stars, that’s for sure,” Peter chuckled lowly as if having an inside joke with himself. “You’re home now (Y/N).”


End file.
